Ce Soir ou Jamais

tonight I write...or never

Thursday, July 20

Running the gamut of emotions

My husband tells me that I exhibit three emotions: Happy, Angry, and Tired. Angry and Tired have had to have me medicated for about half our marriage so that all of us at Monkey Hill can remain Happy. Generally, you could say that I am Happy. In fact, just yesterday a co-worker told me how 'chipper' I seemed despite the fact that I appear to be carrying quintuplets and that she was not nearly that nice when she was pregnant. I let her know that she was lucky she did not live with me. (And I'm good at 'checkin' it at the door' when I enter the workplace.)

This morning my husband bore witness to an emotion that he has only seen 2 other times in the past 13 years, and one my daughter has never, ever seen: uncontrollable/inconsolable Sadness. No, not the type of sadness that overtakes me when I watch The Sea Inside, but the Sadness that turns me into a blathering idiot, crying so hard that I actually throw up. Oh, sure, I cry. A Lot. But this morning's cry, and those two other times, felt like a speeding bullet had entered my chest, causing me to explode and never know if I could ever become whole again.

I lost it when I got up this morning at 4:55am (mind you, I am not sleeping well, at all, so you are probably surprised I haven't lost it sooner! Even my doctor told me he is not up that early) to find a puddle and package from Little Dog. Sure, this behavior, while it has gotten better, should not cause one to cry. But it was the moment I walked out of my room and was hit with the smell of dog poo that a wave of emotions hit me at the same time, causing the deep sobs. It was at that moment that I felt completely helpless, lost, and utterly alone. How, possibly, can I raise another daughter when I can't even get my dog to go outside to crap?

My husband woke up to clean up the mess and do his best to make me feel better. He's more of a doer than an empath, so he made sure I had water to drink and that I made it to the toilet to throw up. And then he climbed back into bed with me and listened to me cry for close to two hours. Poor Darian woke up wondering what was the matter, not sure why Mommy was crying so hard. "Mother Nature hit Mommy, telling her she needed to get her butt in gear since the baby is going to be here really, really, soon. That hurt Mommy, so she is crying," was how my husband explained my outburst to our first born. My daughter, who is an empath, had tears in her eyes and said, "I think you really need to lay down and have me cuddle you." And then I cried some more.

(Though we are technically 35 weeks 3 days, Piper measures gestationally 36 weeks 5 days, which means she could come about 8 days earlier than we thought- thwarting all my plans!!)

I thought I was getting better, when my husband, who obviously should have kept his thoughts to himself said outloud, "There's some chicken in the fridge that will need to get cooked tonight."

The sobbing resumed with the half hiccuping words escaping me, "I can't even handle the dog and you want me to cook some chicken tonight?"

"Honey, I am sorry. I will grill it; don't worry. I'm sorry I said anything about chicken."

I ended up falling asleep, completely spent from the loss of so many tears; dreamless sleep that caused me to wake just in time to say goodbye to Darian as she left for day camp. I ended up going into work for a half day.

I'm a lot better as of dinner time. No, I didn't cook any chicken; I will leave that for my husband. I had a productive afternoon at work and am now vegging out with my girl, the one Thursday where we do not have to go to Tae Kwon Do class.

And no dog left me a package to deal with upon my arrival home.


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